Checkmate
by Elemental0903
Summary: Hermione Granger, hiding under the identity of pureblood witch Kali Nott, must convince famous Chess Master and strategist Ronald Weasley to go back in time and prevent Harry Potter from dying on that Halloween night, knowing he's the key to save the wizarding world from the unhappiness they're experiencing under Voldemort's dicatorship.
1. Chapter 1

**I**

The castle was cold and silent, with only the dim light ff the moon shining through the windows and the echo of her hushed footsteps hitting the grey stone. Her robe swished as she moved, announcing her presence to whoever cared to listen, but no one did. The young woman, a witch of only twenty-five years of age, eventually reached her destination, a door made of wood with intricate carvings on it, and protected by a big, austere lock. She stopped, letting the hood of her robe fall so that the light hit her face, and a few black strands of hair were seen. The woman searched one of her pockets, and soon after a long key emerged, which she inserted in the lock and turned three times before pushing the door and stepping inside.

The living room of her quarters was big, shaped as a pentagon, and as pureblood-oriented as was possible.

Kali Nott like the walls covered by bookshelves and tapestries, and she tolerated the much too high ceilings, but even after five years she could not get used to the constant darkness her husband insisted on keeping.

"Good evening, darling," the woman said, walking to him and kissing his cheek before slipping off her robe, revealing a sky-blue dress that reached her ankles, and that wrapped her slim figure like a package, full of lace and ribbons.

Her husband, Theodore Nott, a young man only a few months older than his wife, nodded stiffly and regarded her with dark, inquiring eyes. He took her robe, as required by their social status, and returned her greeting with a firm nod, but it was soon apparent that he was not interested in formalities.

"Kali. Where have you been?"

He followed as she circumnavigated the emerald chair, took a book from the mahogany shelf on the southern wall, and elegantly took a sit at the chaise lounge. She then looked at him sweetly, with only a faint accent of the derision that accompanied her every word.

"I was merely looking for you, my love," she told him, straightening her dress with her long hands. "I could not sleep, and missed you deeply, so I thought it would be a good idea to come see you at the Astronomy Tower. I took a side route so I wouldn't arrive in the middle of your lesson, but I must have miscalculated the distance, because you had already left when I got there."

"If there is anyone who could walk this castle with closed eyes it's you, Kali. You knew the exact amount of minutes it would take you from here to the tower," he retorted, albeit less aggressively they he was before.

Kali kept her smile, and softly turned her face to the noisy clock resting beside the black sideboard. "It's only four minutes past the ending time of your class, Theo. You finished early."

This seemed to both enrage him and satisfy him, and she watched curiously as he was caught between the two emotions, until at last the second one prevailed.

Theodore Nott sat down beside his wife, and looked at her with longing eyes.

Kali smiled again, maliciously this time, and kissed him, pulling away just when he was starting to moan. She slowly and teasingly removed her dress, her book long-forgotten on the floor, before pushing her husband down and allowing both of them to scream in pleasure.

Close to one hour later, Kali Nott dressed herself again, with night clothes this time, and went to lie down on her bed. With Theo still asleep in the living room, she could have a few moments to be her true self, letting her mask fall just a little. Kali Nott was her legal name, but she wasn't born with it. She had been Hermione Granger once, before her hair became black and her eyes grey, and before Dark Magic threatened to kill her. She had had to build a mask, a whole new person, to be safe. Safe, beloved and ready to avenge her lost innocence.

A small sigh escaped her lips as she pulled the soft linen on the bed above her shoulders, searching for more warmth. Tomorrow would be the big day. It was the day she had been planning for years, her obsession, and sole reason of living.

After years of being Kali Brentwood and then Kali Nott, she had gotten used to loving certain things and people that she once despised, not to mention all the habits and beliefs that she had had to take at heart. She hadn't managed completely, however. Deep inside, she was still the scared but eager muggleborn girl who had first come to Hogwarts in hopes of finding herself, and who had lost almost everything instead.

Only one thing remained of that girl, although hidden under a new identity and a complicated weaving of lies: the memory of what had been. Even after becoming Kali, Hermione had clung to those images, and not even time had been able to distort them. A long time ago, Professor McGonagall had told her that time would be her worst enemy, that it would consume her and make her feel lost as each year passed by and she still was trapped in a body that wasn't completely hers.

But she had been wrong. Kali wasn't Hermione anymore, and the ache of that painful realization was always there in the back of her mind, but Kali had something that Hermione lacked: the ability to survive on her own, and to plot things that were bigger than her own imagination even conceived, unbeknown to all.

She had been holding her mission a secret for a long time, and now it was time for it to be revealed. A mixture of excitement and anxiety lay in her heart and soul, originated by her eagerness to share an ever-growing burden and the terrifying fear of being betrayed by her confidant. She hadn't met him, not officially, not as Kali, but his name was known by everyone, not only in the English wizarding community, but in the rest of Europe as well. She had seen him form a distance many times, pensively walking the streets of Diagon Alley. He usually was alone, but sometimes his sister or one of his brothers kept him company, engaging him in superficial conversations and pointing out objects and people, hoping to raise a more cheerful reaction than just a nod, a half-smile or a one-word answer.

He was sad, Kali noted, all the time. It was dangerous to appear unhappy or dissatisfied, but somehow he was allowed to, perhaps because of his great success, or as an unspoken acknowledgment that he had already suffered enough.

Kali knew, though, that there was no limit to a person's inner pain, even after the damaging act itself had stopped. It still hurt to think about the people she had lost during the war, and very few things could make her feel better when she was overcome by melancholy. Her beloved books, for instance, were always good companions, and Theo's arms around her subdued the ache too. But it was her mission that truly helped her to go on. And now she was so close. Less than twenty-four hours; about fifteen to be exact, and then she would take the first step on the road to changing things.

* * *

Ronald B. Weasley considered himself a methodical and pragmatic person. He woke up every morning at seven, took a walk around the fields that surrounded his small house, and reached his mother's habitation one hour and fifteen minutes later, in time for breakfast. The meal was a quiet affair, only seldom interrupted by the arrival of one of his siblings. Ronald's mother was getting older, and she was worn out not only by the passing of time, but by the birth of seven children, two magical wars, both of which had been lost, and the death of a child and a husband. Ronald had made it his sole responsibility to check on her daily and supply her with what she needed, despite his siblings' offer to share the task.

The young man preferred to do things on his own. He had simply discovered that he could achieve more that way, undisturbed by another's presence. He liked to maintain his own pace in doing chores or projects, and it hadn't taken him much to realize that velocity wasn't all.

He was a great chess player, the best perhaps, and that had been the result of many years of patience, perseverance and dedication. Chess had not only taught him to think or make strategies, but he had learned to wait as well. All in all, if he truly thought about it, Ronald knew he had been waiting all of his life.

As a child, he had waited for his parents' attention to be diverted from his siblings and to him, and as a teenager he had waited for his mother's depression to fade, and for the hurt of their two losses to decrease. His sister and his four remaining brothers had moved on more easily than him. They had grown up and gotten married, and some of them had children as well. They were happy, or as happy as they could ever be. But Ronald was still waiting. For what exactly, he knew not. But it didn't matter. He had time. He had patience. He would wait, and one day the answer would come. One day, he would get all the pieces, and he would be able to make the final move. To call checkmate. Right now, he just had to arrange the chessboard.

That day, a sharp November morning, upon his return to his household he found a person waiting for him. She had let herself in, and was sitting in the kitchen, reading a paper that she held upside down.

"Luna," he greeted, a small portion of surprise emerging through his tone.

"Hi, Ron. Sorry about the intrusion, it was cold."

"It's alright," he assured her, going to boil some water for their tea.

"I spoke to some people," she continued, seeing no point in avoiding the purpose of her visit. "As I thought, it's not possible."

She watched sadly as his shoulders tensed and then fell with disappointment. She didn't fully understand why it meant so much to him, but she knew it did, and that was enough for her. Her empathy was always stronger around him.

"I'm sorry, Ron."

The young man shook his head vehemently. "It was expected. Luna… it's not that I don't love you."

"I know, Ron."

"It's just that it doesn't feel like we're supposed to belong together."

"I know, Ron."

They had had that conversations many times before. At first, she had been sad, then angry. Now she merely felt resigned. He had taken his decision, and Luna knew how stubborn her husband was. He could take days, maybe even months or years to decide something, but then it was final.

In a way, knowing that the law forbid them to separate warmed Luna inside. It meant she would still wake up next to him every morning, and watch him play chess every night.

Ronald stayed there and watched Luna. There were mixed feelings in his heart, and he waited to see which one would eventually reveal itself as the strongest.

He and Luna had simply gotten married too soon. They had been dating for only nine months when the law that forced all those below thirty-five years of age to marry was approved, but it had made the most sense to make their relationship official instead of being arranged with someone else. Ronald knew he loved Luna, but sometimes he wondered if it was just mere affection. Familiarity. Or worst, the need to be with someone who understood him. Luna had known him at Hogwarts. She had watched him grow up, she had been there as he withdrew himself inwards after the loss of his brother and father. And, above all the things that made him and Luna similar, was the fact that she knew loss too. Her mother had died when she was just a child, and her father, like his own family, and been relentlessly questioned by Ministry officials after the war. Moreover, both he and Luna were able – and even enjoyed – to be alone, giving to their partner some refreshing and much appreciated space. Yes, he admitted to himself and her, they did love each other, but they were not soul mates. They weren't meant to be together until death parted them, and they both knew it. They had, sadly, known it all along.

"Luna… we will go on. We will learn how to be us again."

"We will, Ron," the young witch repeated firmly, but with a certain hint of bittersweet melancholy.

They also knew, quite clearly, that at their young age they were not supposed to learn how to be together, or how to change a casual, take-it-day-to-day relationship into a solid, profound marriage.

"Why don't we have lunch together?" Ronald suggested, wishing to bring them back to a ground of non-awkwardness.

Luna gave him one of her deep, touching, apologetic looks. "I've already eaten. I saw your sister with the baby in Hogsmeade, and what was meant to be a quick chat turned into a nice lunch – which she insisted on paying. We should invite them over for dinner one of these days."

Ronald nodded, back to his usual pensive mood. "I will arrange it."

Silence settled around them, covering everything else. It fell from above like a soft but compact winter snow, or like wadding, and soon enough nothing else existed in the room but that growing silence. Even their breathing was low, lower than a whisper, as their thoughts raced through the lead-like atmosphere, pondering the consequences that their dialog entailed.

It was Luna who broke the silence in the end, feeling it was separating them further instead of helping them find a balance in the chaos inside them.

"I'm coming back home," she announced, and she was pleased to note that he didn't seem vexed by it. "Our cover-story can't hold forever, and I don't want to raise trouble for my father. So I'll sleep here tonight."

"How is your father?"

He was perhaps asking out of duty, but Luna saw it as an invitation to open up nonetheless. She had missed their intimacy the most, during Ronald's inner crisis.

"He looks old," she told him, "and weak. He doesn't have much time left. He hasn't mentioned the war once during the entire week, nor talked about revenge. It's almost over."

"Poor old guy," Ronald commented with sympathy in his voice, "he's waited all these years to call checkmate, but couldn't even get past the pawns."

* * *

It was later in the same day, and dusk had already come and passed. A cold wind was keeping most of the people inside, and Kali Nott's only encounter was with a perished tabby cat that tried to follow her, but was quickly discouraged by her harsh movements.

It was a starless night, and the small portion of moon that could be seen through the big black clouds was not enough to cats light on the small streets of Diagon Alley. The young witch kept a quick pace, reaching her destination without any trouble, unseen.

A kid of about eight or nine years of age was walking out of the building, and Kali waited until he was out of sight before pushing the door open.

She found herself in a big atrium with a reception desk and some chairs, most likely meant for waiting. There was a young woman, whom she thought she recognized from Hogwarts as Ravenclaw Sylvia Bell, who stopped in her tracks in the middle of putting her winter robe on, and looked at her with both surprise and worry. Kali hadn't expected Ronald Weasley's assistant to still be there.

"Excuse me, madam, but we're closing now. Master Weasley's last pupil has just left and he's reorganizing his chessboards for tomorrow. Can I help you in any way?"

"I need to speak to him of something of the utmost importance, immediately."

"I will inform him of your presence."

Kali waited, surveying the room with her curious eyes. She liked to see new places. The Chess Master's school was quite a simple building, apparently filled with sober yet austere wooden furniture and decorated with smooth curtains that fell on the large windows with complete elegance. Kali thought that the room mirrored Ronald Weasley's personality, if she considered what she knew about him. And she knew quite a lot.

"Yes?"

The male voice shook Kali from her considerations, and she straightened her back.

"Good evening, Master Weasley. I'm Kali Nott. May we speak privately?"

She pointedly glanced at his assistance, and the man followed her gaze inexpressively.

"Ms Bell, you can go. Thank you."

"Goodnight, sir."

The door was closed gently, but it clicked loudly when Kali cast a silent locking spell.

"Forgive the precaution, but this conversation truly must be kept between us."

The man regarded her with the most unreadable look, but when he spoke his voice was smooth and calm, far from what Kali expected. She found herself admiring his ability to self-control.

"Mrs. Nott, noting that we have never engaged in any conversation before this moment, I find it difficult to image what this could be about."

Kali smiled. She smiled broadly, fully. She had a speech ready, it was printed in her brain. She had been waiting so long for this.

"I know you, Mr. Weasley."

"Everybody knows me," he told her, and this time his right eyebrow was lifted.

"Wrong. Everybody knows Chess Master Ronald Weasley, but I know _you_."

She moved around the room as she spoke, savouring his curiosity, his longing to know what she meant. But she knew he could wait, just like she had been forced to.

"Should I clarify myself?"

"Well, you did go to the trouble of coming all the way here, in this cold weather and at what is considered dinner time, when you are most likely meant to be supervising your students, or expected to dine with your husband. You also locked my door, and while I could easily unlock it, I'm not expected anywhere anytime soon. So do talk, Mrs. Nott. What do you know about _me_?"

"Ronald Bilius Weasley, younger of six boys, with a younger sister as well. At Hogwarts, you were sorted into Gryffindor. You've always felt overshadowed by your siblings, always felt like you weren't doing enough, like you weren't enough."

He was tensing, darkening, but still he remained silent.

"Of course, everything changed when your brother Fred was accidentally killed at the Battle of Hogwarts at the end of your first year. Your family had to prove their loyalty to Voldemort, and you didn't have time to feel bad about yourself, constantly worried about your family and your future. Your father was sent to Azkaban and then executed, and your mother fell into a deep depression that hasn't left her since."

She stopped, and he looked at her again. His eyes were almost hateful now.

"All those things are well known by everybody, Mrs. Nott."

"They are. What they don't know is how your loyalty to Voldemort is non-existent, and how you've been planning to bring him down for all these years."

This time, he laughed. He laughed loudly and repeatedly, hiding his blinding terror under layers of amusement.

"And what, pray tell, makes you think that?"

"Because I want the same thing," she said simply, wiping the smile from his face.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Nott, but I do not believe you."

"Ron, my name is not Kali Nott." Her tone had become sweeter, warmer, barely above a whisper but still loud and echoing in the empty room. "And you've got dirt on your nose, did you know?"


	2. Chapter 2

**II**

"Ron, my name is not Kali Nott." Her tone had become sweeter, warmer, barely above a whisper but still loud and echoing in the empty room. "And you've got dirt on your nose, did you know?"

Hermione Granger – because she had vowed that once he knew she would cease to be Kali – watched as a wave of recognition hit him, pushing him forward, cutting his breath away, until he was bent towards the floor, confused and disoriented, shocked, lost in the contrast of memories, evidence and logic.

In the minutes it took for him to be able to look at her again and speak, the young woman had walked around the room, checking once again for possible ways for them to be spied on or overheard, but found nothing. The curtains were long and thick, and the door was sealed. Nevertheless, Hermione cast a few spells, to be sure of the complete secrecy of what was yet to be said. Every word she was to speak would endanger her, condemn her even, and she knew she wouldn't survive a second time.

Eventually, the young man addressed her. His voice was soaked with disbelief, but she noted a flavour of admiration as well, that was perhaps produced unconsciously.

"How is it possible? I remember those words. Someone has said them to me before."

"Yes," she confirmed, "it was me. You have a good memory."

"But it's not you. You're dead."

"On the contrary, I feel confident enough to state I am very much alive, Ronald Weasley."

He shook his head. Hermione could almost see the different parts of his brain in painful contrast: he knew Hermione Granger was supposed to be dead, but something, instinct perhaps, or his unconscious magic, told him she was saying the truth, yet he couldn't trust the stranger standing in front of him.

"I don't have many ways of proving it to you, unfortunately. I could relate all the events of our first year at Hogwarts, but you could easily assert that I've stolen those memories somehow, and I wouldn't know how to answer to that. The only thing I can offer is my story. You might not believe it, but it's all I have. The reason I came here to you, Ronald, is for you to listen to what I have to say. I'm here to ask your help, and I can only hope that you agree to assist me. I could say that hope is all I have left, but I would be lying. I have a plan, Ronald. I plan to change everything. A plan to make a better world for me and you and everyone else. A world without fear. Still, I could do it alone, I'm sure. But two sets of eyes, two wands and two functioning brains are certainly better than one, and you're the person I deemed the best for my task. So, Ronald Bilius Weasley, will you listen to my story?"

His movements, as well as his normally immediate ability to think, appeared to have slowed down. His throat felt dry, and he had to lick his lips more than once to be able to speak. He didn't know what to do. The woman in front of him – whether she was Kali Nott, Hermione Granger, or someone else entirely, he knew not – had been right about at least one thing: he did want to change things. It was a dangerous thing to think about, so he was very careful to admit it even to himself, but this moment, this chance, was what he had been waiting for since he was twelve years old and had witnessed the cruelty and terror of Voldemort's reign.

"I will," he said slowly, carefully, pushing each word out of his lips like feet moving on tar. "But allow me to ask you a question first. Only one."

She nodded, kindly, with a small but tight smile. There was the hope of a good ending for them, and the fear of not succeeding.

"During my first year at Hogwarts, one night I couldn't sleep so I went to the Gryffindor common room to sit by the fire. Hermione Granger was there as well, reading a book. I commented on its title, believing it stupid. What book was it?"

Hermione frowned, bringing her brows together, forming an expression that truly resembled her past self, of so many years before.

"Such thing has never happened. You should have been a Ravenclaw."

"Ravenclaw, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Slytherin… those are merely names. They do not define us, and they certainly do not make us."

"That's very profound."

"Go on with your story, Mrs. Nott, or Ms. Granger, or whoever you are. I do not have all night, my presence will be missed."

"Oh, yes, Luna Lovegood, was it not? Curious woman. Nonetheless…"

With a flick of her wand, she summoned two chairs from the other side of the big room, motioning for him to sit before settling down herself.

"You know the beginning of this story, Ronald. Voldemort found a way to come back in a corporal form, using unicorn blood and later the Pilosopher's Stone invented by Nicholas Flamel; he gained power, and strength. The Death Eaters began to rise again, and to support him even more than before. They grew in number. They became more ruthless. And then they started to kill not only muggle-borns and squibs, but muggles as well. I was scared, and my parents wanted to take me away from Hogwarts, but the Death Eaters found a way in. There was a battle, as you well know. Only minutes before the main attack, Professor McGonagall led me and a small group of other muggle-borns through some secret tunnels under the castle. I don't know how she knew about the attack in advance, although I have some suspicions. Well, Professor McGonagall brought us to the muggle world, to a small town I'd never been to in Wales. She also told us that all out parents had been killed in the previous two days. I'll spare you the story of my grief."

Her eyes darkened as she said the last sentence, and Ron recognized his own mourning in her tense posture. He had lost a brother and a father, and his mother had never fully recovered.

"McGonagall put us in contact with some witches and wizards who had been living in the muggle world, some in hiding, some for academic research. They… they had spell, a ritual… to change our DNA. Do you know what I'm talking about?"

No, DNA was not something that was known in the wizarding world, but Ronald Weasley had spent his childhood in a muggle-loving family, and he also happened to be quite a learned and curious young man. Even better, he was married to an intelligent, book-lover Ravenclaw, and brainy conversations had been the first thing that had drawn him to Luna.

Nevertheless, Ron frowned, not seeing how something like that was possible. Of course, he didn't know much about the subject in question, close to nothing in fact, but the basic information he possessed made it hard for him to see the truth in Hermione Granger's statement.

"I do," he told her, his mind wandering in countless of different direction for a few moments, until her rhythmic voice drew him back to focus.

"They never explained the whole process; we didn't have much time and they probably felt that we were much too young to comprehend such a thing. Years later, I tried to research it, but the ritual was of their own invention and I had to be careful, one wrong move would have cost me everything. In short, what they did was take samples of pure blood, free it from the most defining traits – such as dominant eye and hair colour, and other recognizable features – and then carefully mix it with a drop of our blood. Once sure it wasn't going to react in a bad way – it apparently could turn out to be poisonous – they spelled it into our veins. Therefore, we all became purebloods. Our appearance changed, and our character was also altered in some ways. I've become subtler, colder, more calculating. Although that was partly due to my personal experiences as well, no doubt. They –"

He held up a hand, motioning for her to stop. It was a lot to take in. Slowly, he looked at her again. She was so different from Hermione Granger that his first-year housemate was the last person he'd think about when seeing her, and yet – yet if he truly thought about it, and most importantly knew what to look for, he could see it. Her hair was darker, her skin paler, she was taller and… well, _sexier_ , but somehow her face, not counting the eyes, could easily correspond to the one Hermione Granger could have had in her mid-twenties.

Her story was incredible, hardly believable, astounding. But for some reason he knew she was being honest, and so he braced himself to hear the rest.

"Go on, Hermione."

It was a small thing, to say her first name, and her real one at that, but it made her smile. She could see that he was still uncertain on some level, and she couldn't blame him in the least (she would have been more suspicious had he simply taken her word without a second thought), but it showed trust.

"They provided us with new names, and tempered with official documents to create real family trees and references to our invented families. We were all given a sound story as to why we weren't living with our family – I was born in France and I'd spent my whole life, there; in fact, my family still lived, and continues to live, there, but I had been sent to Hogwarts instead of Beauxbatons because of traditions. The following September, when things had calmed down some, I started Hogwarts as a first-year once again. That is where you met me, Ronald Weasley.

"Well, you know the rest. I was sorted into Slytherin, and I led a typical Slytherin life. I later started to date Theodore Nott, whom I then married. I'm teaching Charms now, and I enjoy my job, but it is not my highest… vocation."

He saw her smirk, and for a moment he was almost afraid of her, glimpsing if only through intuition what she was capable of.

He cleared his throat, trying uselessly to shake the uneasiness from his limbs.

"You have a plan?"

"Yes. I vowed to get revenge, Mr. Weasley. I vowed it to Hermione Granger as her DNA changed, intertwining with that of a pureblood that hated her for her only existence. Now, I believe I have the key, and I believe I have the oil to treat it so that it doesn't squeak when I go to unlock the door."

"The door…"

"The door to the past, Ronald, and to our future. Just a name. Let's see if you can guess it; some people are afraid to speak it, and cover it up with silly-sounding titles…"

"You don't mean – no, it can't be the Dark Lord. Then – I wonder – Harry Potter?"

"The one and only," confirmed Hermione with a sad sigh, remembering that tragic Halloween night when the boy of the prophecy had been killed in Godric's Hollow.

Lily Potter's famous protection spell had been essential – but it hadn't been strong enough. A little more, Hermione knew, just a little more strength and it would have worked. Although, she had discovered, a different spell would have worked better. And that spell was what she had the intention of using.


End file.
